It's good connect via cyberspace. Billy, I've enjoyed your parabling. Hope things are well in Europe. We miss having you around. Scott joined are group last Wednesday night, so as to not meet alone (Robert and Ron were supposed to arrive, but never did).
So anyways. My housemates and I had a little retreat on sat. We went down to Red River Gorge about a hour or so southeast of Lex. We grabbed a loaf of bread and assorted turkey products( Turkey Salami?) and headed into the park. We started with many expletives as I backed off the road into an unseen ditch, only to ground the bottom of my car on the road, but with a bit of a push we were liberated and went on our way.
After quick sandwiches and some sort of party mix, we headed down the trail. We stopped to swing on a rope someone had tied to swing over the river, but much to everyone's disappointment, no one slipped and fell in.
So we apparently left the trail, because we found ourselves trailblazing. I didn't mind this, but I almost felt sorry for Mike, who decided Birkenstocks were appropriate hiking footwear. So we headed up the mountain. Clinton promised a "gentle slop" around the corner from smooth inverted cliff faces we continued to come upon. Finally, after two hours we found not a gentle slop but a firm disciplined incline. We navigated the roots and rocks to pull ourselves up. The summit was in our sights. Weary and heavy laden, we approached the top. At which point, Clinton pointed out to John the sound of engines, more specifically, car engines. How could this be? Were we not in the remote regions of Kentucky, having triumphed the, until now, unreachable heights? In the distance we saw the signs of civilization, fences and paved walkway. Then the old couple strolled, yes strolled, by. It seems we had covered the entire mountain, except the road onto it and the paved walk way out to the overlook.
Of course the road out would have taken us ten miles away from our car, so it was decided after much deliberation and jockeying for control that we would head back down a different side of the mountain, into the wilderness. Finally, we reached the elusive car and snacked on grapes and granola.
Thus continues our policy of finding the most round about, tiresome, scar inducing , yet fun and memorable ways to the top of the mountain.
3 comments:
I swear, there really is a gentle slope just around the next corner. And, of course, our boulder-strewn, briar-laden, impasse-presenting incline is by far more authentic than their gently sloping asphalt. No?
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